


Viva Las Vegas

by biblionerd07



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Constipation, Fallen Castiel, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Waking Up in Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1963332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, when Dean considers he went to Vegas with his barely-healed brother, a sulky teenage prophet, and a newly human angel, getting married wasn't the <i>worst</i> thing that could have happened.  Cheesy waking up in Vegas fic that essentially ignores season 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Viva Las Vegas

“Sammy!” Dean hollered down the hall. “Are you ready to go yet?”  
  
“Five minutes, Dean! I said five minutes!”  
  
“It’s _been_ five minutes!” Dean prompted.  
  
“Actually it’s been three minutes and twenty-eight seconds.” Cas corrected him primly. Dean pursed his lips.  
  
“You still have a perfect internal clock without the angel juice?” He asked skeptically.  
  
“It’s not hard to count in 60-second increments, Dean.”  
  
“But do you just sit there and _count_ all the time, like even when we’re talking you’re—”  
  
“Okay!” Sam appeared in the entryway, duffel slung over his shoulder. “Ready.”  
  
“I don’t have to count.” Cas rolled his eyes. “I just know when another minute has passed.”  
  
“But _how_ do you—”  
  
“Guys?” Sam interrupted, annoyed. Dean had been hounding him to get a move on all morning and now, when he was ready, Dean and Cas needed to bicker? “Let’s go!” Sam said. “Vegas!”  
  
“Vegas!” Dean yelled back enthusiastically. Cas grimaced. They had been yelling “Vegas!” at one another for the last two days while they planned the trip. He didn’t understand why that was necessary. They all _knew_ they were going to Vegas; why did they need to keep screaming about it?  
  
Cas didn’t really want to go to Vegas, in all honesty. He didn’t see why he couldn’t just stay at the Bunker while Sam and Dean had their brotherly Vegas trip that was going to include, Dean had confided with multiple confusing winks and elbow nudges, _women_. Cas had reminded Dean about the last time he’d tried to pay women to sleep with Cas and Dean had lost the sentiment Cas was trying to convey while roaring with laughter.  
  
Kevin seemed to feel the same as Cas. “But if it’s your _brotherly_ bonding, why do _I_ have to come?” He steadfastly refused to own up to his pouting as Sam took his duffel from him and put it in the Impala.  
  
“It’s going to be so much fun, Kev!” Dean exclaimed. Kevin looked incredibly dubious. Privately, Cas agreed, but there was something about how excited Dean was about the whole thing that made him bite his tongue. He patted Kevin’s shoulder.  
  
“I can’t even go into casinos.” Kevin pointed out petulantly. “I’m not 21. I may never _reach_ 21.”  
  
“Well, then, we’ll just have to sneak you in so we make sure you get to gamble before you die, right?”  
  
“Dean does know how to have fun.” Cas tried to keep all the skepticism out of his voice and was rewarded with a blinding grin from Dean. He didn’t fight the returning smile that tugged the corners of his mouth up. Cas was trying to smile more, now that he was human. Now that he was back with Sam and Dean. Some days were hard. Some days his clothes itched against his skin and food rolled against his throat and the lights were too bright and everything was too loud. But some days he sat outside the Bunker in mild weather and listened to birds chirping and Dean made burgers and put extra cheese on Cas’s and Sam suggested a new book for him to read and Kevin came out of his room and they discussed cello sonatas that Cas remembered hearing from heaven as they were being written.  
  
“Vegas!” Dean thumped the steering wheel to accentuate yet another shout and Cas bit back a sigh. Dean was excited. Sam was excited. Cas would try to be excited. Maybe he would like Vegas.  
  
  
Cas hated Vegas from the moment they took the exit. Neon lights burned far too brightly and he had to close his eyes and tip his head against the window before he got too dizzy. He blocked out Dean’s excited yammering about “the strip” (was it something full of strippers?) and “buffets” (he seemed more excited about the buffets even than the strip, which seemed to suggest the strip was not about strippers) and breathed deeply. They got to the hotel, boasting its own neon monstrosity of a sign, and the world tilted slightly as Cas got out of the car.  
  
“Whoa, Cas, you okay?” Dean’s hand was immediately there to steady him and Cas wondered bemusedly when he’d come around the car or if maybe Dean had found a way to detach his arm for when Cas needed help. Cas shook the thoughts out of his head.  
  
“The lights are…bright.” He muttered. Dean had a hand on Cas’s jaw and was tipping his head left and right to look into Cas’s eyes. “There are many horns honking, too. It’s just—it’s disorienting.”  
  
“Shit, I should’ve known.” Dean berated himself. “Sensory overload. Sometimes you have trouble in the Bunker, I should have realized Vegas would be too much.”  
  
Sam came back, swinging the key rings in his hand, and stopped when he noticed Cas’s slump and Dean’s worried stance. “What’s wrong?” He asked, eyebrow rising slightly at the way Dean’s hand hadn’t left Cas’s face. Cas tried to focus on the feeling. It was nice to have one point of sensory input to concentrate on to ground himself from the swirl of sensations around him. He hadn’t figured out a way to tell Dean that his friendly touches were sometimes the only thing that kept Cas from full-on falling apart. He somehow felt Dean would be uncomfortable with the knowledge.  
  
“The lights and the sounds.” Dean supplied. Sam’s face immediately screwed up in sympathy.  
  
“Oh, man, we should’ve realized…”  
  
“Yeah, we should’ve.” All Dean’s excitement was gone now, replaced by tension, and Cas felt bad. Kevin was standing beside the car wordlessly, looking almost hopeful. He probably thought this meant an end to the Vegas trip. Cas almost wanted it to be the end, too, but he thought of how much Dean had smiled in the past three days and forced himself to stand up straight.  
  
“I’ll be fine.” He insisted. “I just need to get used to it.”  
  
“Cas, we can turn around and go home right now.” Dean said, and that was what really cemented Cas’s need for them to stay. Dean rarely got to do things he enjoyed, and he’d been worrying for months over Sam healing and Cas getting back to the Bunker and adjusting to human life; he was offering to turn around the minute they got there to drive either the eleven hours back to the hotel they’d stopped at in Denver the night before or the full twenty-hour drive back to the Bunker.  
  
“No.” Cas kept the tremor out of his voice. “I want to experience Vegas.”  
  
Dean still hesitated, finally removing his hand from Cas’s face to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t know…”  
  
“Dean, Cas knows his own limits.” Sam’s voice held a hint of warning, because Cas knew the brothers had had a discussion about giving people (namely Sam and Cas, and even Kevin, somewhat) autonomy to make their own decisions. Dean blew out a long breath.  
  
“Okay.” He relented. “Let’s just take it easy tonight, huh? Get settled, order a pizza, save the strip and everything for tomorrow when we’re all rested up. Kevin, you okay with bunking with Sam? I’ll keep an eye on Cas.”  
  
Kevin just shrugged, not caring either way. They dispersed to the rooms and Cas almost had to fight Dean to carry his own bag.  
  
“You should share a room with Sam.” Cas argued. “It’s your special Vegas trip.”  
  
“It’s fine.” Dean waved a hand carelessly. “I’ve shared rooms with Sammy our whole lives. Kid smells like something died.”  
  
“You can go out to the strippers.” Cas pushed. “You don’t have to babysit me.”  
  
“It’s the _strip_ , Cas, there aren’t just strippers on the sidewalk.” Dean informed him with a snort. “Well, usually. And I’m not babysitting you. I’m getting old, man. Driving all day’s getting harder on the back.” He patted his lower back, wincing. Cas felt pretty sure Dean was humoring him, but he also knew Dean’s body had undergone quite a bit of stress during its time because of hunting. He frowned and Dean imitated him, frowning back but ruining the effect by laughing.  
  
“Come on, you grump, pick a bed.”  
  
They opened the door between their room and Sam and Kevin’s room, congregating and eating pizza. Dean flipped on Dr. Sexy and everyone else shared looks of exasperated eye-rolling.  
  
“Oooh, this is a good one.” Dean told the room at large. He and Cas ended up stretched out on the bed Dean had claimed while Sam and Kevin lounged on Cas’s. “Dr. Sexy’s girlfriend has amnesia from a brain tumor and he’s going to operate on her, but she doesn’t know who he is.”  
  
“There’s no way they’d let a guy operate on his own girlfriend.” Kevin protested before he could stop himself. Sam kicked his foot. They all knew by now not to question Dr. Sexy. “What? They wouldn’t! That’s got to be some kind of conflict of interest.”  
  
“He couldn’t let anyone _else_ operate on her!” Dean snapped. “He’s the best man for the job because he _cares_ the most so he’ll be extra careful not to make any mistakes.”  
  
“Dr. Sexy certainly fulfills many obligations at the hospital.” Cas managed to veil his criticism as a compliment and Dean nodded imperiously.  
  
“Well, Dr. Sexy’s the best.” He reached over Cas to grab another slice of pizza and didn’t quite make it all the way back to his own side of the bed, accidentally settling his shoulder on top of Cas’s. No one criticized Dr. Sexy for the rest of the night, and Dean never moved his shoulder.  
  
  
Dean woke up with his head pounding and that fuzzy-teeth feeling that told him he’d had way too much drink and hadn’t brushed his teeth before falling asleep. He cracked his eyes open and groaned against the sunlight coming in through the windows. Why were the curtains open?  
  
He scanned his memories, going back as far as he could. He remembered their Dr. Sexy marathon. He remembered waking up and walking the strip. He remembered the fountains of the Bellagio and eating a ton of shrimp cocktail. Did he get sick from bad shrimp? No, because he remembered drinking. Classic Vegas—getting wasted and not remembering anything. He vaguely remembered sitting Cas down at a poker table after telling him not to let anyone know he was counting cards. Those memories were much hazier, but he thought Cas might’ve won some money. He thought he remembered pulling Cas away before the workers got suspicious. But he had nothing after that.  
  
Dean cleared his throat and stretched. He froze. His foot had just touched something. Something he knew to be the feeling of skin. Skin that wasn’t his own but was in his bed. He cracked his eyes again but all he could see was a burrito-shaped lump of a person beside him. The skin definitely belonged to a covers hog. Dean tentatively peeked under the blankets and caught sight of messy, dark hair. He relaxed. It was just Cas. Why Cas was in Dean’s bed instead of his own, Dean didn’t know, but at least he hadn’t brought a stranger home last night and left Cas to fend for himself.  
  
Dean yawned and stretched again, not caring this time when his foot rubbed against Cas’s calf. He worked his way up to convincing himself to get out of bed. He needed water and something for his headache. And he needed to get water and medicine for Cas. If Dean, a seasoned drinker, was this hung over, Cas would be lucky if he wasn’t comatose. Dean slipped out of the bed and creaked his way across the room, twitching the curtains shut on his way to plunge the room into blessed darkness. He filled two cups with water and set them on the bedside table, then rooted around in his pack for ibuprofen. He swallowed them dry and left the bottle beside the water.  
  
It was about then that Dean paused. He was naked. It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed before; a cool breeze on the dick was usually a big clue about that. But his mind was huffing and puffing to put together some puzzle pieces. He had just crawled out of bed naked. Cas was still in said bed. Something heavy settled in Dean’s stomach as he cautiously lifted up the covers Cas was hoarding with great prejudice. Cas’s white ass greeted him, and the way the room spun around Dean had nothing to do with his hang over.  
  
“Holy shit.” He whispered. “Oh, fuck.” He practically jumped out of the bed, wincing at the thump as he hit the ground, praying Cas wouldn’t wake up. He didn’t. Dean slid into a pair of boxers and then sat on the floor, holding his breath and counting to ten and trying not to have a panic attack.  
  
He grabbed his phone. He had fourteen texts from Sam and three from Kevin, all from the night before.  
  
 _Sam: Where you guys?_  
 _Sam: Have Kevin with me_  
 _Sam: Wait for us_  
  
The remaining eleven texts from Sam and all three from Kevin were pictures, and flipping through them shed a lot of light on what had happened but did nothing to ease his stomachache. The first few were innocuous enough—varying arrangements of the four of them getting gradually more plastered. But around picture number four, things got interesting.  
  
Dean and Cas doing body shots off some twins in Daisy Duke cut-offs.  
  
Dean doing a body shot off Cas, twins nowhere in sight.  
  
Dean and Cas kissing.  
  
Dean and Cas _really_ kissing.  
  
Dean on top of Cas in the booth of whatever bar they were at.  
  
Kevin’s horrified face.  
  
Dean and Cas kissing in the back of a cab.  
  
A wedding chapel.  
  
A blurry selfie of Kevin and Sam giving the camera a thumbs-up.  
  
And yes, there was the photographic evidence—Dean and Cas had gotten married in a chapel in Vegas, complete with Elvis as their officiator.  
  
Dean dropped the phone and swore loudly, clutching his head between his knees. He’d done a lot of stupid things while drunk, but this probably had to take the cake. He grabbed his phone and sent a text to Sam. No words, just several question marks.  
  
“Dean?” Cas’s voice was thick and rough with sleep and Dean felt horror growing in his chest. Cas couldn’t just _wake up_ , not when Dean had just realized they were married. “Why am I naked? And why is my stomach so…” He sat up, his hair sticking up in tufts, and gestured vaguely.  
  
“So what?” Dean tried to keep his voice steady.  
  
“Um…” Cas squinted as he searched for a word and Dean couldn’t breathe because not only did he have his usual morning wood, but said morning wood had given an interested little twitch at the sound of Cas’s voice and the sight of Cas’s squint. “Crusty?”  
  
Dean might have blacked out for a second. “ _What_?” He might have shrieked. Cas recoiled, squeezing at his head.  
  
“Please do _not_ scream like that.” He scolded.  
  
“Cas.” Dean took several deep breaths. “Crusty how?”  
  
Cas pushed the blanket down a little and Dean tried to ignore the memory of Cas’s ass that was trying to surface. Cas’s stomach was indeed crusty. And there was no mistaking what that crust was. Cas had dried come on his stomach.  
  
“Oh my fuck.” Dean said eloquently. Apparently, the word was enough for Cas to connect the dots. His eyes went huge and he looked down at his stomach and then over at Dean.  
  
“Were you naked?” He also sounded a little high-pitched.  
  
“I was naked.” Dean confirmed meekly. “And. Um. Well.” Dean cleared his throat and pulled up the picture of them holding hands in front of the Elvis, handing his phone up to Cas without making eye contact. It was silent for a beat.  
  
“Who is that?” Cas asked, confused. “I don’t understand what this is supposed to tell me.”  
  
Right. Because Cas wouldn’t recognize the tacky features of a wedding chapel and know what a cliché they’d become last night.  
  
“That’s Elvis.” Dean supplied.  
  
“You said Elvis is dead.” Cas countered suspiciously.  
  
“Yes. He is. But that’s an Elvis impersonator, which is basically a staple at Vegas wedding chapels.”  
  
“Why does Elvis have imper—” Cas’s voice cut off suddenly. “Wedding chapel?”  
  
“Hi, honey.” Dean waved, his whole face bright red.  
  
Cas army crawled through the blankets over to the edge of the bed to stare at Dean and Dean tried to ignore the way the covers fell away to reveal all of Cas’s skin. Cas had never exactly been modest, but what with the context…Dean felt like his blush was setting his face on fire.  
  
“So are we…” Cas started slowly. “That means…” He stopped again. “I believe…”  
  
“Put some clothes on!” Dean barked, unable to take it anymore.  
  
“Why?” Cas hissed. “What does it matter _now_? It appears you’ve seen it all anyway.”  
  
“Not that I remember!” Dean shot back. “And I can’t—I can’t have this conversation while we’re not wearing clothes.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Let’s—okay. Okay. Let’s get cleaned up and then we’ll…figure this out.”  
  
“My head hurts.” Cas’s voice was muffled against the blankets, because he’d face planted into the bed out of…what was he feeling? Panic? Horror? Disappointment? Dean threw a pair of boxers at his head and Cas obediently slithered into them. Dean shouldn’t have watched his hips during that.  
  
“Drink this.” Dean ordered, cheeks still flaming. “And take these.”  
  
“The whole bottle?” Cas asked, because the last time he’d had pain killers he’d been an angel and that had been Dean’s suggestion.  
  
“No! Jesus, Cas, you want to shred your liver? Take three.” Dean was turned away now, pulling clothes out of his bag. “You’re human now.” He reminded Cas.  
  
“Yes.” Cas sighed. “And apparently I’m determined to fit in every human experience possible.”  
  
Cas took a shower and Dean waited patiently. No response from Sam yet. Cas came out fully clothed and Dean took his own shower and brushed his teeth. He prolonged his time in the bathroom as much as possible, unsure what would greet him in the room, but finally it was just weird for him to not come out. Cas was sitting stiffly on the unused bed, turned slightly away from the rumpled sheets that, now that Dean looked, bore some crust of their own. Oh, God.  
  
Dean leaned against the door frame for a minute while they stared at one another uncomfortably. “I texted Sammy.” Dean offered. “But, uh, he’s not answering. I’ll try Kevin.”  
  
Cas nodded. Dean sent Kevin a text that said _are you guys alive_. Awkward silence filled the room. Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe around it. After five full minutes went by, Dean couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
“Breakfast?” He suggested. Cas nodded again but still didn’t say anything. Dean noticed a hickey on Cas’s neck and felt a tiny curl of pride amongst his embarrassment. _Shut it,_ he told that part of his brain. They were completely silent while they picked up breakfast, though Cas grimaced away from the bags of food. Dean didn’t blame him. Hung over _and_ in emotional turmoil? It was possibly a situation even McGriddles couldn’t ease.  
  
They got back to their room and Dean opened the adjoining door. Sam was sitting up in his bed, clutching his head, and the bathroom door was closed, the shower running. Sam turned to look at Dean and greeted him with a long groan.  
  
“I hate Vegas.” Sam declared.  
  
“You okay?” Dean asked. He shouldn’t have been so irresponsible and let Sam get so drunk last night, not when Sam was barely over the trials.  
  
“Just really hung over.” Sam waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing lethal, I promise.”  
  
“Hey, we, uh, got a…situation.” Dean heard his own voice wobble and wanted to punch himself. Sam tensed.  
  
“Like a case situation?”  
  
“Ah, no, like a personal situation.” Dean fidgeted. “Maybe you should check your pictures on your phone.”  
  
Sam looked confused but complied. His eyes grew steadily larger as he went through the pictures and he ended up with a hand over his mouth and letting out little ladylike gasps. He looked up at Dean, hand falling away to reveal his mouth hanging slack.  
  
“Shit.” He said succinctly.  
  
“Yeah. So…?”  
  
“So?” Sam’s voice was taking on a panicked edge and Dean glared at him. Of all the people to panic, the two who had actually _gotten married_ were the only ones justified, Dean felt.  
  
“We don’t know what to do.” Dean hissed. He glanced uneasily over his shoulder at Cas, who’d been practically catatonic since the big reveal. He was sitting on the still-made bed, shoulders hunched and head down, and Dean’s heart squeezed a little. Cas was barely adjusting to being human; he didn’t need all these unnecessary complications.  
  
“Well…” Sam cleared his throat and gave his head a little shake, then winced. “Um, I don’t think same-sex marriage is legal in Nevada, actually, so what you got is probably a union. A domestic partnership. So we have to figure out how to sever that.”  
  
Dean ignored the way his gut rolled at the word _sever_. Yeah, he’d had a fantasy or two of Cas while he was having some alone time in the shower, but that didn’t mean it was okay for him to drag the guy to Vegas, get him wasted, marry him, and have his way with him.  
  
“Okay.” Dean responded automatically.  
  
“I’ll…” Sam leaned over and tapped his laptop. “I’ll look into it after I shower and everything.”  
  
Dean tried not to think too hard about why he felt a little relieved that Sam wasn’t going to do it right away. “We got breakfast.” He said as he backed into his room again. Cas hadn’t moved.  
  
“Come on, Cas.” Dean wheedled. “You should eat.”  
  
“My stomach doesn’t like that idea.” Cas muttered.  
  
“I know. But the grease will help with the hang over, I promise. And it’s hard on your stomach taking the headache stuff without food. Okay? Three bites?” Dean tried to be normal, teasing like Cas was a little kid. But no little kid Dean had seen had ever had such solemn eyes.  
  
“Okay.” Cas relented. “I guess you’ve had a lot of hang overs. I’ll trust you.”  
  
They fell into uneasy silence again as they ate and Cas avoided Sam’s eyes when he came in to snag some hash browns. Dean felt like he was chewing ridiculously loud and tried to chew more quietly, but there wasn’t really a way to do that if he wanted to swallow without choking.  
  
“I hate you guys.” Kevin whined as he came into the room. He paused at the awkward silence and the weird tension in the room. “Um, guys?”  
  
“So. Um. Drinking too much leads to bad decisions, right? That’s the lesson we all learned?” Dean could feel the tips of his ears going pink.  
  
“Did something happen?” Kevin asked cautiously. Before Dean could answer, Kevin’s phone gave a little ping and he opened it. He looked up quickly, eyebrows furrowed. “Well, that answers my question. I just got a notification that the Dean and Castiel wedding DVD is ready.”  
  
Dean covered his face with his hands and ignored the way Kevin was trying very hard not to laugh. He could hear the little shit working to control little guffaws that were bubbling up out of his throat. He chucked a McGriddle at Kevin’s head to shut him up.  
  
“Cram it.” He ordered. “We gotta go get that DVD.”  
  
“I’m sure it was a beautiful ceremony.” Kevin was laughing for real now and Dean wanted to punch him.  
  
“Elvis was there.” Cas said solemnly, sending Kevin into peals of laughter. Even Sam snorted. Dean glared at them both.  
  
“This is not funny.” He informed them. They laughed harder.  
  
  
The DVD shed some light on the situation, sort of—it mostly just confirmed what they already knew. And it was highly embarrassing.  
  
 _“Here are the two lovely grooms, waiting for their turn to get married.” The videographer, costumed in a 50s poodle skirt to match Elvis, swings the camera over to Dean and Cas, who are clutching one another tightly and murmuring softly. Dean keeps stroking Cas’s cheek. Sam and Kevin are taking pictures in the background._  
  
 _“Alright, mamas, let’s go.” Elvis calls._  
  
 _“We are both male. Neither of us can be mamas.” Cas corrects, slurring. Dean snorts with laughter._  
  
 _“He is_ adorable _.” He proclaims. “He always says shit like that.”_  
  
 _Elvis makes a face that’s probably supposed to be a smile. “Well, boys, it’s your turn, if you still want to go through with this.”_  
  
 _Dean and Cas walk up to the altar, still holding hands. Elvis gives his little spiel and asks them to exchange vows. Dean starts crying._  
  
 _“Cas, I hate when you leave. I don’t want you to leave anymore. I hope this makes you stay. I just—I love you, you know? I really love you. And I told you that. Right? I said I need you. I do need you. So will you stay?”_  
  
 _“I’ll stay.” Cas says very seriously. “I can’t leave anymore anyway, because my wings are gone. But even if I still had my wings, I would stay. I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to leave, even when I had to. I always wanted to be with you. Now I’ll stay forever.”_  
  
 _Dean’s crying a lot and Cas is grinning dopily, swiping at Dean’s tears. Elvis waits for another minute before shaking his head a little._  
  
 _“Okay.” He says, eyebrows raised. “You got rings?”_  
  
 _Sam wraps Dean in a tight hug before he hands him a green gummy Lifesaver. Kevin has been cracking up the whole time and hands a blue one to Cas. Elvis flat out stares and rolls his eyes as they exchange Lifesavers. He tells them to kiss and they do, long and passionately enough that the videographer whistles behind the camera._  
  
The screen went black and no one breathed for a minute. Then Kevin started howling with laughter. “Dean, I never knew you were such a sappy drunk!” He gasped. “I’m not surprised by Sam, but you were really crying!”  
  
“Shut up.” Dean muttered. He was pretty sure he’d never blushed so much in his entire life put together. Dean didn’t look at anyone, but he could hear the telltale signs of Sam trying to stifle his own laughter.  
  
“Laugh it up, Sammy. At least I didn’t marry Becky.” Dean snapped. Sam winced.  
  
“Hey, she put a spell on me. The only spell you were under was tequila.”  
  
“What do we _do_?” Dean moaned. Sam stood up and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.  
  
“It’s okay. I’ll go look right now.” He obviously felt bad about laughing. But not bad enough not to add, “What happened to your rings, anyway?”  
  
“After seeing that video, I vaguely remember a few things.” Cas admitted sheepishly. “We got hungry on the way back to the hotel and ate them.”  
  
Kevin laughed so hard he fell off the bed, and Dean nudged him with his shoe to follow Sam back to their own room. He shut the door behind them and rested his head against it for a minute, gathering the strength to turn around and face Cas again.  
  
“So.” Dean tried for nonchalant and failed. Cas nodded.  
  
“So.” He agreed.  
  
“I didn’t realize I would…cry so much.” Dean managed to crack a smile and Cas mimicked him, ducking his head a little.  
  
“I’m not really surprised. You really are quite emotional; you just don’t want anyone to see it. Alcohol lowers inhibitions, thus…” Cas gestured at the TV. Dean rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
“Well.” He started, and then found he had nowhere to go with the sentence.  
  
“Well.” Cas repeated, and they shared a small smile before Cas’s eyes darted away again.  
  
“Maybe we should, uh, talk about…” Dean cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t remember anything that we did, so…” He trailed off. Cas tilted his head.  
  
“We got married.” He reminded Dean in a tone that suggested he didn’t think much of Dean’s intelligence. He was probably adding another reason to his list of regrets about drunkenly marrying Dean.  
  
“Right, but I mean, um, after that.”  
  
Cas looked confused for another minute before his face cleared. “Oh, sexually? I don’t remember either. It does seem like we did _something_ , considering how we woke up.”  
  
Dean cringed a little at how easily Cas said _sexually_. He seemed to be taking everything in stride. “Yeah, um…so, I mean…I just mean, my ass ain’t sore, so…” He floundered.  
  
“Mine isn’t either.” Cas confirmed. “So we must not have had anal sex.”  
  
“God, Cas.” Dean covered his eyes. “Do you have to say it like that?”  
  
“Is there another way to say it?” Cas was pretty good at being composed, but Dean could hear little currents of tension in Cas’s voice. Maybe he wasn’t taking it as well as Dean thought.  
  
Sam opened the door then, toting his laptop. “Hey, I figured it out. You can get a dissolution of domestic partnership. It’s a form to fill out.”  
  
“Okay.” Dean said automatically. “Where do we get the form?”  
  
“Well, it’s online, but we don’t have a printer here.” Sam pointed out. “I mean, we could find a place to print it. But you have to get it notarized.”  
  
“Is that hard to do?” Dean asked.  
  
“Not really, but it’s Saturday. I don’t know where we’d find a notary on a Saturday.” Sam had his considering face on and Dean wanted to push it off. Sam’s considering face never meant good things for Dean.  
  
“Can we forge it?” It was their preferred method of dealing with official records.  
  
“Maybe, but definitely not with the stuff we have here.” Sam shrugged. “Our best bet is to go back to the Bunker and figure it out there.”  
  
They didn’t waste much time packing up and leaving. Dean felt a little bad about the mess in the sheets, which was weird because it wasn’t exactly the first time he’d left that kind of mess. Eleven hours later, Dean kept on flying right by Denver, and Sam gave him a Look.  
  
“I just want to get home.” Dean said defensively. It had nothing to do with how awkward he felt about what sleeping arrangements would arise. Really.  
  
So they didn’t get home until the next morning, and Dean’s eyes were gritty and his body drooped with exhaustion. No one really talked much, exchanging grunts as they flitted off to their rooms. Dean had barely kicked out of his boots when he collapsed onto his bed and fell instantly to sleep.  
  
  
Dean couldn’t control his dreams. That what he told himself when he woke up a few hours later panting, the hazy image of Cas over him fading in the afternoon light. His skin was tingling with phantom kisses and he wanted desperately to get out of his jeans. It was just residual weirdness from accidentally getting married. So what if this wasn’t exactly the first time he’d had that dream? It had been a long time since the last one and it didn’t mean anything that the dream had resurfaced now.  
  
“Dean?” Sam’s voice outside his door made Dean jump guiltily. He took a few deep breaths and arranged himself a little better before grunting out,  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
Sam opened the door and came in, closing the door behind him. This couldn’t mean anything good. “You know, I’ve been thinking.” Sam said, and Dean groaned.  
  
“About what, Sam?” Dean asked obediently.  
  
“There are actually a lot of benefits to this domestic partnership thing, you know? Like hospital visitation rights and the right to make medical decisions.” Sam said the last part pointedly. So far, that hadn’t been an issue, but Dean had mentioned his worries about it more than once. They’d gotten Cas’s ID but hadn’t set up any kind of next-of-kin type thing, and what if Cas got hurt on a hunt and needed to go to the hospital?  
  
“What, everywhere?” Dean asked.  
  
“No,” Sam admitted with a shrug. “I mean, since you did it in Nevada, it’s only guaranteed in Nevada, but a lot of states choose to recognize out-of-state partnerships. Not Kansas, but we don’t really hunt in Kansas anyway. If something happens to Cas, we might be in a place where they’d recognize it.”  
  
Dean blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Sammy.” He said. He didn’t elaborate exactly what he didn’t know.  
  
“Look, I get that it’s sort of awkward and the decision isn’t totally logic-based, because you guys have those unresolved feelings or whatever—”  
  
“What?” Dean squawked. Sam rolled his eyes.  
  
“Oh my God, Dean, you don’t drunkenly marry someone if you only have platonic feelings for them. Please don’t freak out about this and be weird, okay? I’ve sort of wondered what was going on there for years now.” Sam shrugged. “Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.”  
  
Dean rubbed his eyes. “Um.” He said. “Look. Even if I did have…you know, feelings, or something, that doesn’t mean it was a good idea for me to get Cas drunk and _marry him_."  
  
“Form a domestic partnership with him.” Sam corrected. Dean huffed, annoyed.  
  
“It’s kind of a big step to take with a guy you have no memory of ever kissing.” Dean pointed out. “Plus, that sounds…big. You know, like…settling down. You know I don’t do that.”  
  
Sam scoffed as gently as possible. “Dean, you have always, _always_ wanted to settle down.”  
  
“My favorite song is _Ramble On_!” Dean protested.  
  
“Mm-hmm. Yeah. No one cares.” Sam opened the door again but paused in the doorway. “Just think about it, alright? You have a few days because we have to wait for your certificate to be mailed to us before you can fill out the whole dissolution form. Think about it and—this is just an idea; I’m spit-balling here— _talk to Cas_. Okay?”  
  
Instead, in true Dean Winchester fashion, he avoided Cas. He peeked around corners before going around them; he didn’t make dinner for everyone like he usually did; he scurried through his bathroom routines as quickly as possible to avoid running into anyone.  
  
It took until Wednesday for Dean to admit he was miserable. His drunken ramblings weren’t untrue when he said he wanted Cas to stick around. He’d hated the way Cas used to just take off. And in the months Cas had been living in the Bunker, Dean had gotten used to him being a constant. He’d gotten used to trying different fruit in the pancakes each morning to find out what Cas liked best. He’d gotten used to brushing their teeth together at night before they went to bed, still bickering about whatever research they disagreed on. He’d gotten used to leaning into Cas on the couch while he educated Cas about pop culture.  
  
So, on Wednesday, he got disgusted with himself enough to admit it—maybe he had feelings for Cas. Maybe their Vegas wedding hadn’t totally been a drunken, spur of the moment thing. Maybe Dean wanted to kiss Cas and remember it. He mulled it over for another hour before he nodded sharply to himself, stood up, straightened his shirt, pushed his hair around into a presentable style, and went to Cas’s room. He almost chickened out again, but he told himself firmly to nut up and knocked.  
  
“Yes?” Cas’s voice was, admittedly, a sweet sound Dean hadn’t really heard in a while. Dean took a deep breath and pushed the door open. “Dean.” Cas sounded surprised.  
  
“Can I come in?” Dean asked. Cas nodded, eyes wary, and Dean closed the door behind him. He paced a little in front of Cas’s bed, where Cas was watching him impassively.  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Cas broke the silence first. He didn’t sound petulant. Sometimes Dean really enjoyed how blunt Cas was. He didn’t let Dean beat around the bush and build up the bullshit.  
  
“Yeah.” Dean confessed. “I have.” Cas looked a little surprised that Dean didn’t try to deny it.  
  
“Why?” Cas asked, and there was a little hint of hurt in there now. Dean sighed.  
  
“Well, would you believe I was hiding from my feelings?” Dean laughed and a smile ghosted onto Cas’s face.  
  
“I would definitely believe that.”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean started pacing again. It just felt better to be moving during this little chat. “I, um. I don’t think what happened was totally out of the blue.” Dean cringed a little. He had no idea how to say it. _Hey, we got married, and I was just wondering—do you like me?_  
  
“Getting married?” Cas raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Forming a domestic partnership.” Dean corrected absently. The term made him sweat a little less. “But yeah. I think…Cas, I…” Dean sighed again, looking down at Cas. Cas was watching him carefully. Cas picked up the book he’d been reading and set it on the bedside table. He tilted his head at Dean and Dean felt his mouth go dry when Cas patted the bed beside him.  
  
“You can sit down.” He invited. Dean bit his lip, but then he crossed the room and sat next to Cas. Maybe he purposefully sat close enough to feel the warmth of Cas’s shoulder against his own.  
  
“Cas.” Dean murmured. Cas looked over at him and smiled, and Dean’s heart started thudding harder than was probably healthy. Not letting himself second-guess the decision, Dean licked his lips and leaned forward. Cas met him halfway.  
  
It didn’t take long before Dean’s hands curled up into Cas’s hair and Cas’s hand slipped down to Dean’s waist. Dean bit at Cas’s lower lip and Cas huffed laughter into Dean’s mouth. Dean pulled back, eyebrows scrunched together questioningly.  
  
“I was just laughing because…I was worried about telling you that when I get overwhelmed with all the—the _feeling_ of being human, you touching me helps me focus. And I guess I didn’t need to worry.”  
  
Dean chuckled, ducking his head shyly. “Yeah, I actually knew that.”  
  
“You did?”  
  
“I…I looked it up. Sensory overload? It’s like, a thing that happens to people. And a lot of the suggestions were to ground the person, with touch or something. They sell these brushes you can use, like to brush someone’s arm to get them to focus on that.” Dean shrugged, pushing a hand through his hair. He peeked at Cas. Cas was smiling at him so fondly Dean wondered how he’d never noticed it before. It made his chest burn a little. He shrugged again. “I just wanted to help you adjust.”  
  
Cas grabbed his chin and pulled him forward to kiss him. “Like I said before.” Cas laughed. “Very emotional.”  
  
“I’m s’posed to talk to you about the dissolution thing.” Dean murmured into Cas’s mouth. “There’s—ah—there’s some logical reasons not to do it.”  
  
“Mm-hmm.” Cas didn’t seem to be very interested in listening to the reasons.  
  
“P-power of attorney.” Dean shivered as Cas’s mouth moved from Dean’s earlobe down to his collarbone. “Hospital visitation.” He couldn’t remember anything else.  
  
“That does sound very logical.” Cas’s hands were teasing their way up Dean’s shirt.  
  
“So—you wanna?” Dean asked.  
  
“Wanna what?” Cas hadn’t been doing a very good job of following the conversation.  
  
“Stay marri—domestic partnered with me.” Dean bit his lip. Sure, Cas making out with him was one thing, but this was a big deal, no matter what he said about logical reasons. Cas stroked his thumb over Dean’s cheek and smiled softly.  
  
“I do have one condition.” Cas said, and Dean tensed a little.  
  
“What is it?” Dean asked apprehensively.  
  
“You have to explain why Elvis impersonators are a staple of Vegas wedding chapels.”  
  
Dean laughed and pushed Cas back onto the bed. They had some memories to recreate.


End file.
